Blood And Stone: A Novel in The Atalante Chronicles

by Nicholas W King

  “How?” asked Angela.

  “Bart, take off the bracelet and toss it to me,” I said. I holstered my gun and extended my hand out to him.

  Majester touched the bracelet and hesitated to remove it. With the reluctance of a starving man giving away a meal, he unclasped the band and tossed it to me. I caught it in mid-air. A spark of pain shot through my hand when my flesh came in contact with the metal.

  “Nico, what are you doing?” asked Angela. She had taken a position next to Patricia. Her hand had gone to her service weapon.

  “Testing a hypothesis,” I said. I closed my eyes. My Vision had always been an involuntary gift. Activating the talent at will had never been easy for me. My breathing slowed and I focused my mind on my connection to the magic of the world. The sensation of warmth and life from Patricia’s home washed over me.

  When my eyes opened, my Vision showed me Bart’s aura. Swirls of crimson and midnight formed the center of his body. Golden flecks surrounded the edges of the vortexes. But there were no crackles of electricity like I’d seen around James.

  I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, my eyesight returned to normal. “He’s not the Red King,” I said. “He’s a mundane.”

  “Will someone explain what the fuck is going on?” asked Majester.

  Before I could answer, Patricia rushed over to him and drew him into an embrace. Bart forgot his question for a few minutes while he held onto James’ mother. Angela came to stand next to me.

  “Thanks,” I said. “You stopped me from doing something stupid.”

  Blackwell elbowed my arm. I smiled, but it disappeared a moment later. When Patricia and Bart’s embrace ended, I explained to Majester what and who the Red King was... and why he had taken James.

  Turning to Angela, I asked, “You bring the toys?”

  Angela nodded and went to the SUV. She returned a moment later with a large duffel bag. “Party favors. What happened to you?”

  I looked myself over and realized the state I was in. “Long story. I’ll tell you another time.”

  “So Terry’s this Red King? The guy behind the murders?” asked Bart.

  I nodded. “Yeah. He’s been using those bracelets to control the minds of your unit.”

  “He’d been using you all to control the investigation. But Zeke screwed up,” said Angela. She set the bag on the hood of my truck and started laying out the weapons and ammo she’d brought with her.

  “So Terry’s been in damage control,” said Majester. He smoothed back his hair with his hands and contemplated our revelation. “He probably didn’t get a chance to use CeCe’s... parts.”

  “What has Terry been doing?” asked Patricia. She looked like she was still trying to wrap her mind around the idea that her brother-in-law was a mass murderer.

  “He wants what he thinks he’s due,” I said. Looking to Bart, I asked, “You up for taking down a murderer? We’re one short.”

  Angela raised her eyebrows at me but gave me a shrug. Majester looked to Patricia. “We’ll bring James back.”

  I thought back to when I was in the precinct the day before and the ring box Bart had been trying to keep from me. “You should give it her now,” I told him. “You might not get another chance.”

  I started walking over to my truck when I heard Patricia say, “Wait.” When I turned around, she approached me. “Terry did something to me. I can’t remember James being taken.”

  “Why would you want to?”

  She considered my question for a long minute. “Terry doesn’t get to have that kind of power over me,” she said.

  I couldn’t help but smile at her words. “I can unlock the memory.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  I shook my head. “The magic, not so much. The memory, more than likely.”

  Patricia set her jaw and wiped away a lingering tear. “Do it.”

  “Bart,” I said, motioning for the cop to come closer. “Stand behind her. When I’m done, she may need help to stand.”

  I clasped Patricia’s hand in mine, keeping my grip soft and gentle. “Focus on this afternoon,” I said. “And just breathe.”

  She closed her eyes tightly. Pulling my power through me, I said, “Cordis.”

  I closed my eyes and pictured a chain connecting my mind to Patricia’s. Link by link, I built the chain between us. When I finished the link, I heard Patricia gasp.

  “Nico,” she said, her voice a frightened whisper, “I feel strange.”

  “It’s okay,” I replied. “I built the link slowly so it won’t hurt as much.”

  When Patricia and I entered the shared landscape, it felt sharply different from the night before when facing the Red King. There was warmth and gentleness in the sharing instead of invasion and wrath. I found Patricia staring at me when I opened my eyes. She was younger, in the bloom of her youth. There were no lines on her face. Her eyes had a sparkle in them that I had not seen before.

  “What is this place?” she asked, trying to make sense of it.

  “A mindscape,” I answered. The space had taken on the shape of a tunnel of flowing blue, like a great river flowing over our heads. “It represents the connection between our minds.”

  “You’re younger,” she said. “Your eyes are kinder.”

  “We visualize our ideal self in here,” I said. Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, I said, “Think of James.”

  The blue waters rolled away and an avalanche of images rushed over us, covering the walls. Moments from throughout James’ short life, from her cradling her new son to his most recent days played out for us.

  “Focus on this afternoon,” I said. “Focus on the abduction.”

  The easiest way I can describe how the mindscape changed would be to call it static. The walls of the tunnel looked like those scratchy pictures on old analog televisions. A figure here or there could be seen, but everything was fuzzy.

  “He blanked your memory,” I said, looking about to try and find something to see through. “Hold onto this moment, Patricia. I’m going to try and remove it.”

  Channeling some of the energy of our surroundings in the physical word, I reached out with my mind and pushed through the interference of Terry’s magic. It had been sloppy work, meant more to impede memory than fully remove it.

  I reached out to the mindscape with my senses and said, “Reparatio.”

  There was a distant wail that grew louder in intensity. The static peeled away from the top of the dome. I watched from Patricia’s perspective as she rounded the corner from her kitchen. Sunlight poured through the open door. Terry had James by the throat up against the wall. The older man’s face was twisted with glee. He punched the teenager in the face with a stiff hook. The sickening crunch of broken cartilage filled the room. As blood flowed down James’ mouth and chin, the boy went limp.

  Terry looked over at Patricia, mad fire in his eyes. His free hand reached out and he uttered a guttural incantation. The scene went white.

  When my eyes opened again, I was back in the physical world, still holding Patricia’s hand. She was leaning back against Bart, who was holding her up. She had her free hand covering her brow, massaging her temples.

  I let go of Patricia and stepped back. If my truck had not been behind me, I probably would have fallen onto my ass. A hand grasped my shoulder and gave me a light squeeze.

  “You okay?” asked Angela.

  “I am,” I said. I looked around and saw the sun had set below the trees. The sky was filled with purple and orange. “How long has it been?”

  “Almost an hour,” she said. She nodded over at Bart and Patricia. “He did well. She screamed at one point. He just held her tight and kept telling her it was going to be okay.”

  “It won’t be. Not for a while.”

  “Better a terrible truth,” said the deputy.

  I nodded. When I looked at the couple again, Bart was handing her a ring box. “When I get back,” I heard him say. He started walking toward us. “Let’s get James
back,” he said to me.

  “We’ll take my truck,” I said. “Bart, you’re up front with me. Angela, you’re riding in the back.”

  “What are we expecting?” asked Angela. She passed a shotgun and some shells to Bart, who accepted them with a cold smile. She went to the SUV and removed two armored vests. She put one on while Majester put on the other.

  Dusk was fast changing into early evening above us. “If he’s smart, he’ll have Magdelena cover him while he prepares the ritual,” I told them. “Figure her and at least two or three vamps.”

  “Vamps? As in vampires?” asked Majester. He didn’t sound nearly as skeptical as he probably should have.

  “Yes,” I said. “Sorcerers, blood magic, monsters are real, everything you’ve heard of and thought was just a story has some connection to a deeper truth. Just, uh, aim for chest. Cause as much trauma as possible.”

  “What about Terry?” asked Majester. “If he’s this Red King, he’s got powers like yours, right?” Angela looked to me as well. I hesitated, my mind replaying images of a blood-spattered James.

  “Leave the Red King to me,” I said.

  Neither of them argued. Majester looked me over, as if taking my measure. “Any kind of plan?” he asked.

  “Simple,” I said as I walked around the truck and got in. “Storm the gates. Stop the bad guys. Save the kid.”

  Chapter 21

  When we reached the road to the warehouse, night had fully arrived. I stopped my truck right before the gravel road that would lead to the field. Flashes of the maggot-strewn ground filled my head. I heard the echoes of shrieking wraiths bounce around in my head. An involuntary shudder danced down my spine.

  “You alright?” asked Majester. He’d shifted in his seat, putting a bit of distance between us.

  “Just some bad memories,” I replied. I scanned the brush ahead, searching for any signs of a guard at the gate.

  Two points of light appeared near where I remembered the gate being. The curve of the road, coupled with the heavy brush, kept us from being discovered.

  “How many bracelets were there?” I asked. My gaze shifted to the highway to see if any traffic was coming behind us.

  “There were five, not counting Terry’s,” answered Bart next to me. “The bracelets were our groomsman’s gifts.” His eyes scanned the area up ahead. He drew in a breath when he saw the flashlights. “Two of mine?”

  “Yeah,” I answered. “How do you want to handle it?”

  Bart pushed off the safety on his shotgun. “We could try the back road?” he offered.

  My eyebrows raised as I turned to face him. “Back road?” I asked.

  Majester nodded. “Takes you closer to the water. It’ll come out near the back of the warehouse.”

  I smiled devilishly. I knocked on the back window of the cab. “Hang in back there.”

  We drove off slowly so the police guards wouldn’t notice our departure. I found the back road easily enough. Before we started down it, Majester asked, “Why are you doing this?”

  “Why are you?” I asked.

  “James means a lot to me.”

  “Same here.” I said.

  Satisfied with my answer, he looked head and held the shotgun ready. “Your plan?” he prompted.

  “Haul ass and take ‘em by surprise,” I said, both hands gripping the wheel. I heard Majester utter a curse under his breath before placing his hand on the dash to brace himself.

  I pushed the gas, shifting between gears with exquisite timing. The truck lurched down the uneven path, picking up speed as we cleared the trees and came out into the open. The largely empty field appeared more ominous in the dark than it did during the day. It wasn’t tall grass that I saw when I looked out on the open field, though. All I could hear were the sound of maggots feasting on the soiled grounds of Terry Masters’ slaughterhouse.

  Clouds rolled away, flooding the field in soft moonlight. My knuckles went white as I tried to keep the wheel steady.

  “What’s that?” asked Bart, pointing out into the field.

  I took my eyes off the road briefly to see what the detective was referring to. A trio of dark shapes ran across the empty field toward us. They were making good time. They would reach the truck before we reached the warehouse.

  “Vamps,” I said. Working the wheel and shifter seamlessly, I brought the truck around the curve in the road to face the warehouse. When we were a hundred yards or so away, I said, “When we stop, get ready to fight.”

  Bart nodded and knocked on the cab’s window. “Get ready back there,” he said.

  The three vampires picked up speed, closing the distance to us in seconds. One of them decided to play chicken with my truck by running directly at us down the broken road. The other two went wide, hoping to attack from the sides.

  “I hope this works,” I said, shifting to increase speed. I heard the ecstatic hisses from the vamps as they drew closer.

  When the lead vampire was twenty feet away, I spun the wheel, downshifting to accommodate the decrease in speed. My truck protested loudly and I was certain I’d doomed us to roll and die. The Jeep held the road, though. The bed of the truck clipped the vampire on the main road. The creature slammed into the vehicle at full speed

  The Jeep ground to a halt, dirt kicking up in a thick cloud around us. My seatbelt was off and I was out of the car before the shifter had fully settled into park. Bart took a bit longer to get free, but he managed, switching on the flashlight attached to his shotgun.

  I turned my head in time to see Marco leaping out of the darkness at me. Droll streamed down the sides of his mouth as he hissed at me. His fangs extended forward, ready to sink into my flesh.

  I smiled as I channeled my power. “This should sound familiar,” I said. “Adigo.”

  I didn’t throttle the spell. Without the benefit of any anti-venom, I wasn’t pulling any punches. The bolt of concussive force slammed Marco in the chest. I could hear bones snap as Marco’s ribcage collapsed. His limp body flew backward, into the night.

  A pair of shotgun blasts from behind me caught my attention. I pulled my 1911 and moved around the front of the truck. Glass shattered behind me, followed by another shotgun blast.

  I spun around, which saved me from receiving a spine-shattering punch from the vampire I’d clipped with the truck. His punch rolled off my shoulder, which made my spin unbalanced. I barely caught sight of Angela, who slid out of the back of the truck. She shucked the spent shell from her shotgun, took aim, and fired at the vampire who’d clipped me.

  I fell onto my ass only to be pushed onto my back as the vampire fell face-first onto me. It was the same vampire who’d tried to gun us down outside the Colombia.

  “Nico, push him up,” shouted Blackwell.

  I couldn’t get enough leverage to push. The vampire reared his head back, hissing as he brought his fangs to bear. I brought my Colt up and jammed the barrel into his open mouth, breaking off some of his teeth. The vamp’s eyes bulged.

  I pulled the trigger.

  The .45 ACP slug blew a hole through his cheek. He pulled away from me, bringing his fist around to connect with my jaw.

  His punch wasn’t full strength but I could feel liquid splash my tongue as my teeth bit the wall of my mouth. I repositioned my gun and jammed it back into his open maw, this time making sure it touched the roof of his mouth. I pulled the trigger three times in quick succession, spraying brain matter into the air. Thick gouts of blood and saliva poured onto my chest and face. It was thick and heavy, like syrup.

  I rolled the lifeless vampire to the side, spitting blood and trying not to vomit. “Check on Bart,” I managed.

  “Hell you gotta check on me for?” asked Bart as he walked around into view.

  I smiled as I stood up. “How’d you fare?” I asked.

  “Two in the chest, five feet out,” replied Majester, a confident grin on his lips.

  Before I could say another word, hands gripped my shoulders and pulled me up as
if I were a small child. The vampire Majester thought he’d put down stood on the roof of the truck’s bed. He pulled me close enough to see the black ichor oozing over his chin. His shredded chest looked like a bloody quilt. Elongated fangs were inches from my face.

  Both Majester and Angela shouted, bringing their weapons up to fire. A rustling of the grass behind us was all the warning we had before Marco, broken and pissed off, slammed his shoulder into Angela’s back. The sheriff’s deputy and the vampire both bounced off the cab with enough force to dent the paneling.

  “Help her,” I said, struggling to bring my hands up to fight back. The vampire grabbing me squeezed, his fingers digging into the muscles of my arms and seizing them.

  Bart stepped out of my peripheral vision. There were sounds behind me, punches and startled grunts.

  My assailant hissed at me hungrily. His jaw distended, fangs dripping viscous liquid. I did the first thing that came to mind. When the vampire reared back to sink his fangs into me, my mouth snapped forward. My teeth found purchase in the flesh of his neck. I bit down as deep as I could and ripped. The vampire screamed as he released me, which made it easier for me to tear out the piece of flesh my teeth held.

  I spit the flesh out. My assailant’s hand had gone up to cover the gaping wound I’d given him. From the spurts I could see escaping under his hand, my bite had gone as deep as I’d wanted it to.

  “You know what’s in blood?” I asked, spitting. “Water.”

  Focusing on the blood from the neck wound, I channeled a burst of energy through my body and said, “Glacio.”

  The vamp’s scream of pain died away as the liquid in its head froze. I poured more power into the spell, letting the energy of this rancid place flow through me. His skin stiffened as ice crystals formed all over his face. His eyes stayed wide open in their final moment of terror. I released the spell and felt a great weight fill my limbs. I raised my Colt and emptied the last three bullets from the magazine into that frozen face, shattering it.